Caped Crusaders
by an-alternate-world
Summary: A collection of Nightflash!drabbles prompted via Tumblr, set within the same 'verse.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Caped Crusaders  
**Author: **an-alternate-world  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters/Pairing: **Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe  
**Word Count:** 928  
**Summary:** A collection of Nightflash!drabbles prompted via Tumblr, set within the same 'verse.  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** None for this drabble.  
**Disclaimer: **I am in no way associated with _Glee_, FOX, Ryan Murphy, _The Flash_, The CW, DC Comics or anything else related to the universe.

* * *

_**Anonymous **on Tumblr prompted a fic with the first sentence of: "I thought we agreed this is my side of the city, Red Streak."  
"It's /The Flash/ now, Gothic Tweety Bird."_

* * *

Blaine can't help but gape at the lithe man in the red leather and tucks his dark cape closer to him. Generally he finds The Streak a pretentious asshole, someone too cocky and who gets into unnecessarily dangerous situations because he doesn't take the time to properly assess them. For someone so fast, you'd think he'd allow a second to consider the consequences of his actions but noooo, Streak consistently got himself stuck in the middle of things he didn't need to be involved in.

"Not all of us can be so fast that we're barely a smudge on someone's camera," he grumbles, drawing towards the edge of the building and preparing to leave. He doesn't want to sit on a rooftop where he gets insulted by someone with a superiority complex.

"No, some people just like to lurk in the shadows and be little more than a myth," Streak retaliates, zipping to the other side of the building and circling around Blaine slowly. He frowns behind his mask as he watches the moves, something in them both calculated and familiar.

"It's safer to seem as though I don't exist than have people dedicate blogs towards uncovering my identity," he snaps back and something in that seems to work, causes Streak to still and his lips to press together into a thin white line. His safety, his security, concealing who he is from the world is paramount to him. It seemed less important to The Streak's - The Flash, whatever - number one fan, some random CSI who refused to use his real name on the site.

"If you think you can handle the dangers of this city on your own then-"

"Then what? You'll stop coming out at night?" Streak's shoulders seem to sag as he looks at Blaine, a trace of misery flickering in the shadows of his eyes as he reaches out and then stops short.

"If you keep taking over my area, then I don't need to be here. You can get across town faster than me anyway."

Streak's hands falter and then return to his sides, fidgeting with the leather on his hips. "Did you ever think that I like hanging out with you because I-"

The words die in the wind as Streak disappears in a flash of yellow lightning and Blaine is left to stare after him, blinking dumbly for far too long and wondering why it feels as though his heart and stomach shrunk a size.

He stops by his secret, second apartment on the way back home, stowing his outfit and trying not to rub at his chest. What had Streak been about to say? Because he liked Blaine? The idea was preposterous. They had no idea who the other person was and Blaine didn't think it was a wise idea to get tangled up with someone who had just as many secrets - if not more - than him. Not to mention that kid fanboying about any smudge of red on a photo.

His apartment is empty when he gets back to it and he can't help but sigh as he turns on lights and the TV for some noise and begins undressing for bed. He hadn't had much for dinner before going on a quick patrol but Streak's unfinished words have echoed in his head for so long that he's lost his appetite. He's just finished pulling on his sweatpants when the front door shuts and he tries to stem his annoyance as Sebastian bustles through the door with his coat and briefcase and a small bunch of flowers.

"I'm sorry!" Sebastian bursts out, discarding his coat and briefcase and reaching for Blaine. "This case is biting my ass and the prosecutor wants to get life for Brian and-"

Blaine shakes his head as he accepts the flowers and kisses Sebastian softly. He doesn't really care about the latest lowlife Sebastian is defending in court. "Have you eaten?"

Sebastian nods, his eyes scanning over Blaine's face. "Are you okay?"

Blaine pastes on his most convincing smile as he takes the flowers into the kitchen, tossing out the bunch that is looking the most sickly and replacing it with the new one. Their kitchen is a revolving door of flowers and he wonders if he'll ever stop accepting the flowers as apologies and start demanding…coffee, or donuts, or chocolate, or blowjobs.

Well, maybe not blowjobs. Sebastian would enjoy that too much.

Sebastian sinks into his arms as they climb into bed, noting how distant his boyfriend seems tonight. He wonders if it's just the case but he doesn't want to ask. He's not sure he's any less focused.

And when Sebastian falls off to sleep first and Blaine's left thinking about Streak's words, he wonders whether he can keep his dual identities or if he has to give one up. He loves Sebastian but he doesn't want to cheat on him, yet he's intrigued by Streak's sense of moral righteousness and helping people and there's a spark there, something warm that sets him on fire sometimes. Even the insults about his costume fail to affect him anymore.

But he could be risking a lot to leave Blaine Anderson behind and embrace his mythical alter ego…

He watches Sebastian sleep, the way his eyelashes fan across his cheeks and the smattering of freckles on his face. He's not sure how he could ever leave this beautiful, precious man either...

* * *

_**~FIN~**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Caped Crusaders  
**Author: **an-alternate-world  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters/Pairing: **Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe  
**Word Count:** 501  
**Summary:** A collection of Nightflash!drabbles prompted via Tumblr, set within the same 'verse.  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** None for this drabble.  
**Disclaimer: **I am in no way associated with _Glee_, FOX, Ryan Murphy, _The Flash_, The CW, DC Comics or anything else related to the universe.

* * *

_**Anonymous **on Tumblr prompted a fic which included the sentence: "Come over here and make me."_

* * *

"Come over here and make me."

Blaine stiffens, a scowl knitting his eyebrows together as he takes in the shadowed form of The Streak lurking at the end of the street. They've been having this argument for weeks now and Blaine is close to hanging up his cape for good - or moving cities because he can't continue operating under these conditions.

And by 'these conditions', he means having a cocky asswipe interfere in his protection of the city.

"I'm just asking you to back off my area as nicely as possible," he says, gritting his teeth together when The Streak flashes closer, a blur of yellow lightning, his scarlet suit almost black in the darkness of the street.

"There's nothing wrong with asking for help sometimes. Take yourself, for instance. You look like a teenager fresh out of a Hot Topic store with all that black."

Usually Blaine ignores the jabs at his outfit but he can't do it today. He can't keep fighting. He's too exhausted to have this argument again.

"Goodbye, Streak," he says, pressing a button on the inside of his wrist which launches him into the air. Fifty feet up, the wings snap outwards from his back and help him navigate through the streets, concealed in darkness because he's above the streetlights. He refuses to cry, refuses to think that maybe this is it, maybe he doesn't go out again. He loves being someone capable of stopping crimes, of keeping people safe, or rescuing people, but The Streak is wearing him down. Just because his abilities are born of a suit rather than superpowers doesn't make him less of a hero.

He climbs through the window of his second apartment, stores his suit and changes into jeans and a polo. By the time he gets home, Sebastian is halfway through dinner preparation, humming to himself and swaying next to the counter. When he looks up at Blaine entering the kitchen, his smile is wide before it falls, eyebrows dipping into a frown.

"What's wrong?" Sebastian asks, lowering the knife to the cutting board and rinsing his hands.

Blaine shakes his head, swallowing the lump in his throat when Sebastian wraps his arms around Blaine's waist, gathering him into a hug that's so warm he nearly dissolves into tears. He wraps his own arms around Sebastian's neck, holding onto his boyfriend, inhaling deeply - confused for a moment by the unfamiliar scent lingering on Sebastian's neck - and soaking in the comfort Sebastian offers so freely.

"What's wrong?" Sebastian repeats, his hands rubbing at Blaine's shoulder blades and lower back, his lips brushing a kiss to Blaine's jaw when he tilts his head.

"Just a shitty day," he mumbles, clinging to Sebastian as some of the tension unravels from his shoulders. "It's better now."

Sebastian hums and presses kisses over Blaine's cheek, his temple, his forehead. By the time Sebastian lowers his mouth to Blaine's, he's smiling and relaxed, thoughts of a selfish jerk in scarlet forgotten.

* * *

_**~FIN~**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Caped Crusaders  
**Author: **an-alternate-world  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters/Pairing: **Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe  
**Word Count:** 505  
**Summary:** A collection of Nightflash!drabbles prompted via Tumblr, set within the same 'verse.  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** None for this drabble.  
**Disclaimer: **I am in no way associated with _Glee_, FOX, Ryan Murphy, _The Flash_, The CW, DC Comics or anything else related to the universe.

* * *

_**Anis** (**anisstaranise**) on Tumblr prompted a fic which included the sentence: "I wish I could hate you."_

* * *

He wraps his cape closer around his shoulders, shielding himself from the vision of anyone watching the sky too closely. To most, he was still just a myth, someone that existed only in the darkness - and everyone knew all sorts of monsters did and didn't exist there. Anyone that had been afraid of their closet or under their bed as a child knew that some monsters didn't hide there so those were the sort of people who were dubious about his existence.

There was _just_ enough doubt to stem the interest in his existence.

It didn't hurt that there was another superhero, one willing to flaunt his existence to the media, speeding through Central City.

He hears the rattle of the ladder as someone jumps off, the soft footfalls crunching along the gravel rooftop behind him. He wonders why The Streak is walking. Maybe the asshole figured he'd leap away.

"I wish I could hate you."

The words startle him and he peers out from beneath his cape. He can only see the light glinting off the suit, revealing an outline of The Streak's body, and keeps the cape held high to his face.

"I wish I could say I didn't need your help but sometimes…sometimes I do and I don't want to keep fighting. I don't want to- to lose your assistance and it…costs me my life."

It's the most uncertain The Streak has ever sounded, the most vulnerable he's ever been. It occurs to Blaine, for the first time if he's being totally honest, that beneath the suit, beneath the mask, the man in red is just that - a man. He has a home and a family, he has friends and a job, he has a favourite colour and a favourite meal. He's a person and he needs protection, even if that protection is from his massive ego and propensity for getting himself into stupid situations all on his own.

"What are you saying?" Blaine asks slowly, glancing from the shadowed form of The Streak to the view he had of Central City alight at night.

"Let's… Let's work together," the other male says. "Partners, or just…just assistants, if you want. We can keep each other safe."

Blaine wonders if that's why The Streak is always on his turf, because he can't get out of the way fast enough, because he can't save people with superspeed. He wonders if the fact he's not a _true_ hero with_true_ powers will continue to be a problem which simmers between them.

"Okay," he concedes, only because the nightly stakeouts could get boring and lonely and he's dodged bullets that someone faster than the speed of sound would be better equipped to deal with. "Okay."

He's answered with silence and he frowns, prepared to snap at the other male for finally getting what he wanted and now going quiet, but when he turns around, the rooftop is empty.

The Streak is gone.

He sighs, rolls his eyes, and hunkers down further into his cape. _Figures_.

* * *

_**~FIN~**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Caped Crusaders  
**Author: **an-alternate-world  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters/Pairing: **Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe  
**Word Count:** 1,670  
**Summary:** A collection of Nightflash!drabbles prompted via Tumblr, set within the same 'verse.  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** None for this drabble.  
**Disclaimer: **I am in no way associated with _Glee_, FOX, Ryan Murphy, _The Flash_, The CW, DC Comics or anything else related to the universe.

* * *

_**Anis** (**anisstaranise**) on Tumblr prompted a fic which included the sentence: "I almost lost you."_

* * *

He stands to one side, cloaked in shadow, being the silent observer to The Streak trying to stop someone from shooting him. It's not that he _likes_ these kind of situations - seeing anyone with a gun pointed at them is terrifying, even someone as annoying as Streak - but he can't outrun a bullet.

It's probably why he's so disgruntled to be hanging back - he'd been _ordered _to stay out of the way.

He folds his arms over his chest and huffs an annoyed sigh, getting bored by Streak's inability to get the guy to lower the gun. "_Just disarm him already_," he whispers because surely they have more interesting things they could be doing tonight. He's almost tempted to just leave Streak - and maybe he would - if there wasn't a gun pointed at his chest.

"Hey! Is that The Flash?" someone yells from the other end of the block and then there's five people, shoes clattering against the ground, rushing towards him, ignoring the danger they're putting all of themselves in, phones out, flashes going off-

Somewhere in the chaos that ensues, Streak gets distracted and the gun goes off.

He doesn't actually notice until he hears a scream. His gaze switches between the woman who has stopped running, her hands covering her mouth, and Streak slumping to his knees, hands covering his chest

"_Fuck_," he says, leaping from the darkness towards Streak's aid.

The gunman has already started running away but Blaine will deal with him later. He already knows what he looks like, where he lives, what he does for a living. For now, his attention is solely on the man in red who has collapsed to the ground, a pool of red spreading from beneath him, sickeningly close to the colour of his suit.

"Shit shit shit shit _shit_," he says, circling Streak's body and rolling him over. He starts cataloguing the injuries before he consciously registers what he's doing - GSW to the mid-chest, left hand side. No exit point. May have nicked his lower heart.

"I-"

A terrifyingly raspy sound spills from Streak's mouth, a line of blood dripping from his lips as Blaine starts to panic. He doesn't know what to do. He's not equipped to deal with this. He should move, get Streak to a hospital, because even revealing his identity to the world is better than him being dead. He's just paralysed, watching blood trickle over the suit. He can't-

"Let him go," a voice orders, another pair of hands slipping into his vision, and he startles and looks up at the person in a dirty yellow suit with glowing red eyes. He blinks, eyes widening, because he's heard Sebastian mention a man in yellow before and he wasn't- "I'll take care of him. Let him go."

He doesn't trust the man but his fingers get peeled off anyway. Before he's even finished blinking, the man in yellow has scooped up the man in red and disappeared.

His knees are stained with the blood of a friend.

His hands are shaking.

The people behind him are still squawking, this time over Nightbird being real.

His mythical cover is blown.

He needs Sebastian.

* * *

He's forced into a tremendously long shower at his second apartment to rid himself of the sight and smell of blood. Hidden by the spray of water, he cries in fear and hurt and loss, huddled on the floor, and the water that spreads around him reminds him of the blood that had filled the street from Streak's body.

He enters his own apartment and it's empty and silent. He calls Sebastian's name, walks around in search of his boyfriend, but he's not here. He checks his phone and discovers a missed call, informing him Sebastian got caught up with a case and he'll be late, might not even come home tonight, and Blaine trembles at the news and crawls into bed without changing out of his civilian clothes, without taking off his shoes, clutching Sebastian's pillow against him and crying all over again.

At some point, he must fall asleep.

* * *

Sebastian's side of the bed is still empty when he wakes up and he pretends it's not weird to pull on a sweatshirt laced with his boyfriend's scent after he showers and changes. He's not sure where Sebastian is or why work is consuming him but it's the worst possible time and he can't stop thinking about the blood that had covered him last night, the flashes of cameras capturing his existence, the glowing red eyes of the man in yellow…

How was he meant to tell Sebastian that the man in yellow was _real_?

He tries calling Sebastian a few times throughout the day but it just goes to voicemail. He's never realised how incredibly boring it is to sit in his apartment on a Saturday with nothing to do and by the time night starts to fall, and there's still no sign of Sebastian, he flees it to don his other identity in the hopes that at least he'll get _some_ closure. Maybe The Streak will be around tonight. Maybe the man in yellow will pass on some information.

He flies to his favourite rooftop and settles in the shadows. If someone is going to find him, then The Streak knows where he likes to roost. He doesn't feel like being among the action tonight anyway, not until he knows something about the health status of the man in red. It's hard to sit there, alone, with the sound of cars and sirens and conversation swirling below him. For almost twenty-four hours he's been in a state of shock, of disbelief, something so overwhelming that he feels numb. He wants to be held, cradled in Sebastian's arms and promised that it's all okay and-

"Hey."

He whips his head around so fast he feels dizzy. Lurking in the shadows himself is the man usually known for his bravado, the man who doesn't hide his existence. He seems…different, but maybe getting shot does that to someone. He stands, his cape unfurling behind him, fluttering in the air, as he strides across the rooftop and flings his arms around The Streak's neck.

"I almost lost you," he whispers, fingers curling against leather to hold on tighter. Tears fill his eyes, spill down his cheeks, and a sob bubbles out of his mouth before he has the chance to stop it. He's not sure when he started to care so much, or why. Maybe it's the effect of seeing someone shot in front of him that rattles him so deeply, the thought that someone he's annoyed by but tolerates nonetheless had such a close brush with death. Arms surround his waist, hands pressing into the gaps of his suit, and hold him close, and safe, and-

"I'm okay," Streak assures, his cheek resting against the top of Blaine's hair. Blaine can feel the trembling in his shoulders and hands and wonders if that's true. "I can't be killed that easy."

Blaine wipes his eyes and tries to remember how to breathe calmly, inhaling the warmth of leather against his face. "Don't you dare face off against a guy with a gun again," he says and Streak chuckles and nods, ending the hug with an awkward pat to Blaine's shoulder.

"I promise," he says and there's a moment, almost lost to the limited light, where Blaine thinks he recognises the shy smile - but it's probably his overactive imagination after he hadn't seen Sebastian all day. "I wish I could stay for longer but there's other places I need to be. I just wanted to let you know I'm still alive."

"Oh." He knows it's wrong to be deflated by the news that his crime fighting partner is taking an early mark - it's barely eight - but he reminds himself that the guy was shot last night and probably needs rest and recuperation. Not to mention the guy has friends and family and a life, and Blaine is nothing more than a person with a fancy, winged suit and a cape in comparison. "Take care of yourself."

The Streak nods and disappears in a blur of yellow lightning and Blaine sighs and returns to the edge of the roof. He knows that the other man is okay now so what's the point in staying here, scouting for danger on his own? He'd rather be at home waiting for Sebastian to call or laying in bed trying to sleep because he's exhausted after the restless night he'd had.

It's not a challenging decision and he ends up back in his own apartment, unsurprised by Sebastian's continued absence. He forces himself to eat some leftovers and sprawls on the couch, tucked inside Sebastian's sweatshirt and a blanket high on his shoulders while he stares mindlessly at the TV.

When he hears the catch of keys in the door, he springs to his feet and runs to the door. Sebastian barely has time to register he's there before he's hurling himself at the other male, clinging to him and trying not to cry all over again. He can't explain why he's so emotional.

"Hey stranger," Sebastian murmurs, kissing his temple, his cheek, the hollow beneath his ear. "I'm sorry I didn't call you back. It was…a pretty exhausting day and I kept getting sidetracked."

"It's fine…" Blaine burrows into Sebastian's neck, unwilling to let go even for a moment, which pretty much forces Sebastian to scoop him up and carry him to the couch.

"Are you wearing my hoodie?" Sebastian asks, a fond smile playing on his lips when he touches the fabric. Blaine shrugs, gathering the blanket around them before he snuggles into Sebastian's chest.

"I missed you," he says and Sebastian makes a little, "_Aww.._" noise that he pretends he didn't hear, preferring instead to savour the warmth and safety of Sebastian's arms surrounding him and erasing the fear that had lingered after the night before.

* * *

_**~FIN~**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Caped Crusaders  
**Author: **an-alternate-world  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters/Pairing: **Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe  
**Word Count:** 297  
**Summary:** A collection of Nightflash!drabbles prompted via Tumblr, set within the same 'verse.  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** None for this drabble.  
**Disclaimer: **I am in no way associated with _Glee_, FOX, Ryan Murphy, _The Flash_, The CW, DC Comics or anything else related to the universe.

* * *

_**Anis** (**anisstaranise**) on Tumblr prompted a fic which included the sentence: "Shit. Are you bleeding?"_

* * *

He likes to think of himself as fairly deft, fairly agile, fairly flexible, as he ducks and darts and weaves around punches and kicks and weapons - but he can't miss everything and occasionally a fist connects with his jaw, a shin lands against his ribs, a knife slices through a layer of fabric.

Once the latest crim is bound against a lamppost for the police to find, he turns to escape into the darkness when a voice stops him.

"Nice work, Tweety."

He scowls over his shoulder at his sometimes-rival, sometimes-partner who saunters towards them and eyes the guy Blaine had just painstakingly taken down single-handedly. He didn't have the luxury of all the superhuman things The Flash could do.

The man in the hood looks up at him with a mischievous expression curling his lips before it falters. "Shit," he breathes and steps closer in a move that doesn't appear calculated. "Are you bleeding?"

He runs a gloved hand along his jaw and finds blood smeared beneath his lower lip. He grimaces at the blood still pooled in his throat and turns away to spit it out as discreetly as possible when he knows there are a set of eyes on him.

"I'm fine," he says, ignoring how croaky it sounds to draw towards the darkness. He just wants to go home and nurse his bruises while snuggled up with Sebastian watching a movie.

"You don't look fine."

He flips the other male off and presses the button to launch himself into the air and extend the wings from his back. He's not sure whether The Flash actually _cared_ or was just looking to get under Blaine's skin with new insults.

One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to stick around and find out.

* * *

_**~FIN~**_


End file.
